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#sorry not sorry I love freely and a lot
spookyuu · 2 years
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Appreciation Post!!
I've seriously been wanting to make a big post appreciating some of the dca content creators that I love (especially after getting to know some of them better) so here's a bunch of compliments and thoughts on them! (Also this is in no order, ily all very much ❤)
@madame-mongoose: Monnster!!! Oh, I love Monnie. Very bullyable (this is a pro). Always so funny and making me laugh. When Monnie comes online, I know there's gonna be some fun times to be had. Easy to talk to and my clone apparently. I wouldn't have made all these new friends if it weren't for Monnie and Sy, so I'm very appreciative of her uwu. Art is very shapely, bendy, very cartoonish in a pleasing way. And very unique to Monnie! I don't think I've seen anyone else with an artstyle like Monnie's. Characters are juicy, very well thought out and full of pain. Your mom.
@suokumi: You came crashing in one day and life has never been the same. Suo is full of love and passion and awful terrible disgusting sleeping habits. But they make up for it by telling everyone else to take care of themselves because they love you sososo much. Really talented, but don't tell them that or else they'll die. Anyway yeah, Suo Art my beloved and also Suo my beloved because we're married. Can bust out 50+ sketches in an hour and is like "dont look" even though I'm frothing at the mouth and shaking them. I love you Suo mwah ❤️
@opudontdonut: La Creatura!!! Bites everyone like watermelon. very fun, very gremlin. Pops in every now and again and throws everyone into a frenzy. A biting frenzy. Good Gaslighter. Take that as you may. Draws chibis really unique in a way I cannot replicate but is so so so so cute. Art is very distinct too!!! The line work especially is very noticable? Thick black lines. Draws the boys v skrunkly too. Nightmare and therapy au my beloveds.
@ariisonfire: TALENTED!!! Very, very talented. Animates, codes, arts, does just about everything and is good at it. Very funny doodles, very dorky. I love Ari!!! Very cute (cutest giggles this side of uh. Idk just really cute giggles) and provides me with Vector content. My spouse, no matter what Lily says.
@skittlewaffle: LOVE the way Kay draws the boys. Her art in general is so sharp and intentional. Precise. Very cartoony as well, good for animation me thinks. Has good AU ideas and brainstorms really well. Literally. The fucking paragraphs kay busts out that obliterate my mind. Also very fun person to hang out with, very silly.
@pillowspace: Beautiful, wonderful person. Somehow manages to draw on her 3ds??? Like a god?? Loves rotini (eat something else I'm begging you) KEEPS FUCKING REBLOGGING MY WATERFALLS PIECE Also has similar brain thoughts as me (ooie to Angel Tango jumpscare) Has a beautiful voice, fr. Sang a song for me which melted my little heart. Makes gut-bustingly funny gifs at the speed of light. Also says??? Things that make no sense but are very funny.
@vilz: Oof, what's not good to say about Val? You know that meme that's like "You're the funniest mother fucker on this webbed site" that's Val. Val's the funniest. Their comics always make me bark laugh like an idiot. Writes very poetically, reading their stuff is like. Like being punched but with a soft caress. Val art is good for the soul, me thinks. Even their doodles on receipt paper give me all the chemicals. Hanging out with Val leaves me smiling for the rest of the day, very fun company.
@cloudyvoid: SUPER talented. Can you believe they drew and rigged their own Vtuber model? I know, impressive right? Draws the DCA skrunkly and lanky just how I like 'em. BRAINS SO HARD WITH ME ABOUT DROWSIE AND GAIA!!? Very nice wonderful person as well, fun company. And ooughhh I just love the oc brainrot with her. Could do it all day, love you mwah.
@crazedauthor: Knows all the fanfics. Well maybe not all, but knows the ones I happen to be thinking about. Pops in mid brainstorm to add something juicy that adds fuel to the fire. Human gasoline. Got obliterated by 1 (one) chip. o7
@daunsun: Another sketch machine. Gives me Eclipse content. FIABC liker, which automatically elevates her status. Tries to shoot people who make fanart, but she deserves it so idk what to tell you. And then turns around and makes fanart for other ppl. smh double standards. Love the way she draws humans. And the boys, but that goes without saying. Honestly the way daun draws the boys is sooo good it's like. I can't even describe. It's like cupcake. Long cupcake.
@cakesfunhouse: Hi __ I'm Cole looking ass. Shoots me dead with fluffy ramblings all the fucking time. Brainstorms really well, dropping good ideas like they had them shoved in their pockets ready to throw. Actually really sweet and fun to talk to. Gremlin, though so beware, they bite. Draws biblically accurate dca fluff, so what's not to love. Will pop in randomly while you're talking to someone else to add something that kills me dead. Like wheezing laughter.
@nmfergus: Nikki my beloved 💜 such a sweetheart, loves to see people happy and excited, always asking questions and seeing how everyone is doing. CHICKENS!!! Farmville. Also Corndrop. Ask Nikki about corndrop. Can you guess what he sells? It's corn. The answer is corn.
@paper-lilypie: LILY!!! omg Lily real. Art is all soft lines and easy to read expressions and kisses and snuggles and basically when I see lily art it's like drinking a cup of hot cocoa. Also the way Lily draws hands? God, what a legend. Give me your hands. Little hater. And enabler. But she's my little hater/enabler so it's okay ❤️ love me a good Lily spotting. Has good au ideas too.
@sycopomp: SYBORG!!! I wouldn't be making this post if it weren't for them and Monnster. Sy writing makes brain go brrrr. Has this way of setting stuff up that pays off later? Like little hints into things that are really fun to pick apart/notice on your own. I can always picture what's happening in Sy writing really well which sucks for me personally when they write ouchie owies. But I love them for it mwah ❤️
@sinnabee: AH Sinna!!! Magician Au makes my brain neurons activate so hard. Very sweet as well, love doing magmas with her. Also funny and caring. Don't get to hang out with much because if timezones but I am always very happy when I do get to vibe with a Sinna. Has wonderful beautiful line work and cool ocs I want to know more about.
@spaciebabie: Chaos. (I'm tempted to have that be the only thing I put here) Also makes me laugh!! drops in and says some shit that has me giggling sillystupid. Art is bubbly. Round. Rotund. Want to get to know better!!! Pizza.
Special Mentions/People I want to get to know better:
@oobbbear: Bearz. Bearz my beloved. Your art makes my heart explode. And you're so funny even without knowing you well. 👁👁 The way you draw so chibi and yet so detailed? Like the way you draw hands? Impeccable. Also H mouth. H mouth so cute. I honestly don't think I would have gotten into drawing Sun and Moon fanart if it wasn't for Bearz' aus infecting me like a disease. So everyone say thank you to Bearz for roping me into this!
@hexheathen: MY NUMBER ONE FAN ❤ My bestie who doesn't know the jesties. I love you with all my heart, and I love spending time with you and the rest of our pals. This is my appreciation post and I say you get appreciated.
@bones-of-a-rabbit: SHY BEAN. Drops some cute ass shit and skitters away. Wish I could know better! They have a lot of good ideas and honestly I see them as one of the best fluff writers for DCA content. It was in Reality Not Fine my beloved. I've said it once and I'll say it again: They really capture the word "Lovestruck" with their expressions. When people say, "They looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars," I imagine the way Rabbit draws sun and moon looking at y/n. It's honestly such a talent.
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prettycoolducks · 4 months
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It's really funny seeing new fans be like "Wait the doctor is gay/bi/nonbinary/etc???" As if they haven't been kissing men and women and all else left and right and ignoring gender as a concept since the very beginning
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larabar · 1 year
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Please give more info for your Frontiers au, it makes me very happy
HI YES ALWAYS
this is late because i wanted to have a little more to show you than i had before but Anyway
ok .ok so
each character in the game had their own Main Issue/Thing. amy's was .idk love and wanting to share it with others. knux's was his ancestors and his own past, learning to get off angel island once in a while. and tails' was all about his independence
but for sonic it was really hard to find something sjdnfj since he doesn't really have anything to go off of (flat character and all that) but. i got thinking about how cyberspace affected each character and just how it Works
from what i understand, being stuck between cyberspace and reality has no feeling to it, no sense of being 'grounded', and all that other fun stuff .
and that sounds like a living hell for sonic
he can't do anything. he can run but it doesn't give him the same feeling because there is no feeling. the most he can do is just sit back and wait till everything's fixed.
y'know what just take this
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not finished but it gets my point across and also im so normal about these two
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basic-braining · 11 months
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my interest in psychonauts has sadly mostly dissipated, but i still see art of franke and scream in delight
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chisatowo · 1 year
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Okie I took a shower and now I'm normal again (lying) anyways look at my son
#rat rambles#sekai posting#sorry for that kinda messy rant smth just snapped within me tkfjsjdg#I rly could have just said 'very few of the behaviors ppl demonise mafuyu for within their initial breakdown are repeated after it'#and thatd cover most of my bases. If ppl actually thought for five seconds longer anyways lol#but ya anyways onto smth more positive I rly love how we can rly tangebly see mafuyu's development since the start in their bday 4koma#basic summary; ichika and honami give them globe. mafuyu does a lil genuine thing and says they like it. they show it to miku and len woo#I love how we rly get to feel mafuyu start to get a better grasp on expressing themself genuinely even if they try their damndest not to#let it show outside of 25ji#it rly goes to show that just having a space to try to express themself more freely is so important for them#it reminds me of how for me that space was talking to myself when I was home alone#I think that kinda left me with some other issues but it did legitimately help me build up my sense of self so much#because rather than engaging with this hypothetical me in my thought echo chamber I had to actually like talk#and also while I poke fun at kanade constantly being like how do u feel it does help and honestly is probably the best kanade can do in her#current state without biting off way more than she can chew which is ultimately best for both of them#but still 25ji encouraging mafuyu to try to word their thoughts forces them to engage with their mental state in a more tangeble way#and thats good for them I think. again it reminds me of a lot of what I did to rebuild so I think its neat to see in a media#I rly appreciate how a lot of mafuyu's issues have been less them relearning ~how to feel~ or whatever and more of a mix of them finding#more of a safe space to actually learn how to recognise their emotions that they already have while also having the rest of 25ji there to#support them and on top of a safe space give them a happy space of sorts#like again I can poke fun at 25ji for not being the found family ppl treat them as all I want but that doesnt make them less important for#mafuyu and also again all of them make me soso happy and I love all of their dynamics Im just a lil hater /j#aka I dont like ppl scrubbing away their rough edges as friends like them being so clunky is a part of the appeal to me#I wanna watch them bridge that gap as slowly as possible I find it funny#but in all seriousness tho if the next 25ji event gives us some good kanade stuff we might be much more set up for some stronger 25ji#friendship developments since currently kanade is the one making things most stagnant#speaking of I hope the next 25ji banner is good Im tired of saving my crystals I wanna gamble god damnit /j
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seiwas · 1 month
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sel!! for the fmk game here's katsuki, shouto, izuku and kiri!
birdie!! thanks for playing 🥹 i miss the bnha boys 🥺
izuku would be the bsf 🥺 the kind where, you cry when he cries, and get mad at him when he’s pushing himself too hard. it’s loyalty and trust and a part of your soul chips away every time you watch him get beaten down ☹️
kiri would be the one night stand bc……… big beefy man…… also…… i’m envisioning this as like. his first time doing this kinda thing too, so he’s so sweet about it. so unsure but so accommodating and honestly, under different circumstances, you think you’d be good friends. maybe even date or smth. but seeing him look like that across the bar, it’s impossible not to shoot your shot.
katsuki as the ex bc there’s just a lot going on w him. he’s terrible at communication, has a temper to match it. it always feels like there’s more to everything he says, and it can get so tiring. so so so tiring to have to pry it out of him all the time. is a second chance possible? highly likely, when he sorts himself out. but being w him will definitely be work.
shouto would be the lover 🥺 just because!!!! i think it takes a while to get there (his feelings develop slowly) but when he realises it, i think he just kinda acts on what feels right? and there’s a bluntness to him that is so incredibly honest and clear, leaving no room for questions. it’s refreshing, y’know?
send me 4 characters for a game of bsf/ex/lover/one night stand!
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a-hazbin-reader · 1 month
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Hii I love your work!
Could you do a (romantic but.. crush stage) headcanon of Alastor helping the reader and the reader gives him a kiss as a thank you and Alastor is like "what the hell was that?" Reader genuinely feeling bad for kissing him and Alastor says "you should be sorry" but then Alastor starts to constantly help the reader (even more than before) and everyone in the hotel knows what he's doing but reader is dense. Then eventually alastor just bursts into her bedroom shouting "FOR FUCK SAKE WHY WONT YOU KISS ME" (maybe not that but same energy)
Please and thank you :>
I'm just gonna...combine these two...
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Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
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TW: Alastor being jealous, DOORS, Saucy?
Description: ☝️⬆️
You gave affection freely to those around you, everyone got a hug or a small peck on the cheek
So when you're struggling with something and Alastor helps you out? It's only natural for you to give him a quick kiss on the cheek
It's his reaction to it that makes you think you made a mistake in doing so, his body going stiff and gaze dark
You step back as you start to notice a green haze around him and the glass on his monocle cracking
"Don't you ever do that again, my dear."
"I'm-I'm sorry, Alastor-"
"You should be."
And just like that, he's back to normal, carrying on like nothing had happened and humming a jolly tune
But you still feel so guilty for making him so uncomfortable, that was the last thing you wanted
So you work hard to do better, to respect his boundaries and keep a respectful distance
It's not until later when Alastor has time to think about it that he actually realizes that he kinda enjoyed it
And that he's envious of the others who now freely get to soak up your attention and affection for doing little tasks
Like Husk getting scritches and scratches under his chin because he carried a box for you
Angel getting a warm hug with lots of nuzzling and cooing, all because he used his multiple arms to help you cook
Vaggie sheepishly accepting a thank you kiss because she caught you when you almost took a dive down the stairs
Charlie and Niffty are the worst offenders, always helping you and just eating up your praise and hugs
And now whenever Alastor helps you... you just give him a meek thank you and dash off
He's left there waiting for his hug and kiss that won't ever happen
He's not jealous, he told you not to thank him with physical affection
He just didn't realize that he was shooting himself in the foot when he snapped at you
So he starts trying to tempt you into it, taking every opportunity to help you out with every little thing
Alastor will physically shove the others out of the way in order to be the person who helps you out
And he never gets the proper thank you that he's looking for
It's getting to the point where you're driving him insane with those kissy lips and warm embraces
Why won't you just fucking give him some attention!? Oh yeah. Because he ruined it for himself
You do tell him that you're grateful for him and his help, sweetly smiling at him but keeping yourself at a distance
But it's not enough, he wants what everyone else is getting and then some
He hates being excluded or not being special and it's even worse when it comes to you
Alastor's thin patience suddenly snaps when one day while he's out running errands with you
The two of you bump into Zestial and the great overlord opens a door for you, earning a soft kiss on his cheek
It would almost be cute watching you struggle to do that, considering Zestial's height
But instead...Alastor is fucking irritated 😤
Zestial takes it well and you continue to run errands with Alastor for the rest of the day even though he's visibly sulky
His ears are bent back and his eyes are furious
You wonder what you did wrong
He's a bit distant from you for a couple days after that and you miss having him around
Even if you couldn't be with him, you still liked hanging around him and spending time with him
Just when you're starting to feel sorry for yourself and thinking you did something to offend him, wandering the hotel
He shows up by your side and grabs you, miraculously stopping you from almost falling into a fucking hole in the floor that wasn't there yesterday
Charlie is to blame somehow
You're just so happy to see him hanging out with you again that you hug him out instinct
Only to realize you fucked up and try to pull away-
But Alastor's firm grip on you stops you from moving, and he's looking at you in a way that makes your face heat up
"U-uh...um...thank you...Alastor..."
He tuts at you while shaking his head, pulling you flush against him as he leans in closer
"Words won't suffice anymore, my dear~ I'll only accept one thing as payment for my heroic services~"
You definitely don't melt when he suddenly kisses you and if your arms find their way around his neck then...
Who are you to deny him his payment? Kiss that bastard until he's crawling away and begging for mercy
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Me hoping I didn't just shoot myself in the foot by bringing up the door thing again..
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TENDER CARE. 18+
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pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary. you’ve been feeling insecure lately and your boyfriend, bucky knows just the way to make you feel pretty
word count. 2847
warnings. 18+ only!! hurt/comfort, reader feeling insecure, lots of hand kissing bc that shit makes me weak, kissing in general, praise, body worshiping, oral (f receiving) little bit of titty stuff, unprotected pinv sex, bucky being the best bf. minors dni
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It was late, the evening quiet - the winter moon, a bright slither of silver amongst the dark blue sky. 
As you lay in your bed, admiring her -the moon’s- beauty through the condensation of your window, your mind begins to drift, irrationality throwing hurdles at you. Your brain darting back and forth to those same thoughts you've been having more of lately - ones where doubt and insecurity flood any sense of logicality. 
You knew you had no reason to feel this way. Your boyfriend always went to grave lengths to ensure you felt loved and appreciated, showing you nothing but tender care. Though, there was just something in your brain, that little green gremlin instilling distrust within you - no fault to him.
You felt isolated with your sense of humility, often feeling as though you didn't have someone to confide in, someone to talk to. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, and although you felt comfortable enough with Bucky to share your mind freely, this was something that you just could not stomach. 
Not only were you thinking about yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. The thought of admitting to him you felt insecure in your relationship felt like the highest form of betrayal. To confess to the man who's been torn apart and stitched together more times than one can count - that you felt unlovable, was something you couldn't bear. 
The amount of hurt you would cause him simply by sharing was enough to deter you. So, for that reason alone, you kept it hidden. Letting yourself wallow in the crappy feeling unaided. 
Your phone vibrates on your nightstand beside you, the screen obnoxiously bright - the white almost blinding you within your dim bedroom. Teary-eyed, you peek over at the caller ID, your boyfriend's name displayed beside his picture. 
You wanted to talk to him - to hear his voice, but you knew your wavering tone would give away your dismal state. So, you let his call go to voicemail, like all his others from this evening. 
Feeling guilt-ridden for declining his calls, you pick up your phone, deciding to send him a text instead. But when you unlock your phone, you see a pile of missed messages from Bucky, each text growing more and more worried at your sudden disappearance - his last one reading, 'I'll be over in 10' which was nearly ten minutes ago. 
You exhale in frustration, cursing yourself as you wipe your eyes - carefully blotting the sensitive skin with one hand, the other typing a response. You decided on a small, white lie, replying, 'sorry, I was sleeping.'
The second your thumb presses send, you hear a frantic string of taps on your door - the repeated sound of knuckles knocking. You take a moment to situate yourself before making your way to your front entrance, socked feet paddling over to answer. 
You peek through the peephole, your boyfriend on the other side - visibly distressed as he rakes through the front strands of his hair. You reach for the handle, unlocking the door with an expression you were sure to be disgrace. "I'm so sorry. I was in—" you start.
"Are you okay? You didn't answer. I got worried— I thought something happened," Bucky cuts you off, walking past you and stepping into your apartment.
You close the door behind him, turning to meet his frazzled features. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. My phone was on silent, and I was in bed. I didn't see anything til just now," you confess, sharing parts of the truth.
He deeply exhales, gaze softening as he looks over you. He pauses, seeming like he's analysing you, eyes honing in on your evading ones. "What's wrong?" 
You knew your gag would be up sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be this soon. Sometimes, it was like your boyfriend knew things about you before you even did yourself - as though you failed to remember who you were talking to.
"Nothing," you smile, kissing his cheek as you step past him. "Just tired— didn't sleep properly."
"Yeah?" he hums, not quite believing your half-truths. He kicks off his boots and follows you into your room, soft footsteps behind you like a shadow. "How was your day?" he asks, talking like he's scoping you out.
You sit on the foot of your bed, shrugging at him dismissingly. "Same old. How was yours?"
He steps towards you, eyes darting around your room before focusing on you - everything becoming more apparent. "Fine. Good," he nods, softly groaning as he takes a crouch in front of you, kneeling on the floor between your legs so he's level with you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he asks, eyes following you with the movement of his head, brows narrowing.
"Nothing," you reply, speaking faintly. Responding minimally in case your voice were to break.
"No?" he questions, placing a delicate hand over your knee - the palm emitting warmth onto your skin through the fabric of your pyjamas.
You shake your head, bottom lip beginning to waver under his attention. 
"Then what's on your mind?" he asks gently, his tone warm and concerned.
"I told you," you avoid his eyes, looking down at your hands on your lap. "Didn't sleep well."
He sighs at your tenacity to push him away, head cocking to the side. He adjusts the stance on his knees, and your hands scramble for him - reaching out and holding onto him as if you were to stop him from leaving. Though only he wasn't leaving - he was just getting more comfortable. 
"I wasn't leaving," he murmurs, slipping his hands into yours, thumb brushing over the back of your hand assuringly. "Did you think I was going to leave you?" he asks, lips lining into a faint frown.
You notice his brows tug upwards in the middle, the tell-tell sign he was beginning to think too hard. "No, I was just— I... don't know."
"Well, I'm not," he responds shortly, speaking like he was being stern with you - tough love. "Now, what's going on with you?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring squeeze, the silent act encouraging you. 
You inhale steadily, letting the air fill your lungs. "I haven't been feeling good."
He keeps his eyes on yours, following you. "Okay, why?" he questions shortly, wanting to get to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.
"I've been sad."
"Why?
You shrug. "I just have."
"I need more than that. Why have you been sad?"
"I don't know."
"Why?" he repeats, brows straightening.  
"Because I feel... ugly."
He hesitates, his shoulders slumping at your confession, visibly digesting your words. "Ugly?" he recites, the remark leaving a foul taste on his tongue. "Honey," he lingers, softly shaking his head.
Bucky stills, his forehead creasing with what you perceive to be pity. His mouth opens as though he's going to say something, only for it to snap back shut. He faintly sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. "You know that's not true, right?" he rhetorically asks, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.
You don't say anything, the only reply being a short exhale and an awkward smile.
"Because I think you..." he pauses, kissing another patch into your hand. "Are the prettiest," a slow smile lining his lips - an expression that's now mirroring yours.
It was so simple. Everything Bucky did to reassure you - he did with ease. Just the tiny, loving act instantly melting the tension in your mind. His care for you pushing away any sense of self-doubt.
He peppers another kiss into your hand. And another - littering a short string of them over your wrist. "Don't listen to your brain, okay? She's not always right," he murmurs, expression softening like it was reassuring his words.
"I know," you nod, weakly smiling at him. "Just—"
"Hard. I know," Bucky finishes your sentence, nodding at you understandingly. 
He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the centre of your lips - his own brushing over yours sweetly, the action grounding and comforting. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded as they glance over you, focusing on the almost pleading look on your face.
Your free hand reaches up to his face, palm enclosing his jaw as you bring him back in for a kiss - lips working over his more urgently than the time before. 
"Thank you," you mumble against his mouth, merely pulling away to show your appreciation. "You're so kind to me."
His grip loosens on your hand, now sliding both up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - tongue slipping into your mouth willingly. His lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your throat. 
"Always," he murmurs, the short word muffling into your skin. Whispering, "I want to show you just how pretty you are."
A soft whine-like hum vibrates in your throat, the noise accepting his words eagerly. Your hand trails into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, fingers grazing his scalp as you hold him to the crook of your neck. Neck tilting to the side, allowing him more access to you as you reach for his jacket, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders. 
He presses a final kiss into a patch of your skin and pulls away, looking at your ever-softening features - eyes and brows growing pliant under his attention. His hands slowly roam down to the hem of your t-shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric as they lift, pulling it off your head in a steady, swift motion.
You sit in front of him, chest bare and on display in front of him, letting him take you in - not shying away like you did earlier.
Bucky remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the lewd sight before him, silently storing the image for safekeeping. He brings his hands up towards your tits, cupping under each - holding them in his palms. "So beautiful," he hums, leaning in to place a kiss on the swell below your nipple, giving his attention to each breast.
He rolls them in his strong hands, delicately playing and toying with them, thumbs skimming over your sensitive, hardening nipples, pressing kisses into the skin above. He looks up at you from between your tits, eyes full of love, full of warmth - looking up into your blissed ones with nothing adoration. 
He places a hand over your middle - fingers spread wide as he nudges you backwards, silently and carefully laying you down. Your bare back against the covers with him kneeling on the floor between your spread thighs. 
Barely leaning over you, he reaches up to kiss a trail over your abdomen, lips skimming along your jittering stomach as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear and pyjama bottoms. He pulls them down - light tugs as he drags them off your hips and down your thighs, grazing kisses over your now-exposed skin as he undresses your lower half. 
Pulling the fabric off your ankles, he sets it aside, replacing the material that just covered you with kisses - lips grazing up the length of your legs, chaste pecks over your skin like he was worshipping you. The kisses trail higher and higher, reaching up to the crease between your thigh and cunt where he continues the worship, tongue faintly swiping over the skin.
Your hands worm into the roots of his dark hair, fingers locking on the shorts as you hold him to where you want him, guiding him to the needy little spot between your thighs. Chest rising and falling, inner thighs twitching as the anticipation builds in your stomach.
He situates himself in front of your pussy, lips mere inches away as he softly breathes over it - teasing you, his eyes locked on your trembling stomach above. He places a peck on the bottom of your slit. And another. Lining a stripe of kisses up your cunt til he reaches your clit where he skates past the nub, tongue skimming over it.
Hands working over your thighs and to your hips, he adjusts you, placing your legs over his shoulders - letting them drape freely over his blades as he delves in deeper between your thighs, caressing your plushy folds with his lips and tongue. 
You murmur the first half of his name only to be cut off by a whine, the desperate noise catching in your throat when he nips at your clit, his lips wrapping around the mound - tongue skillfully flickering across. 
The noises he muffles are lewd and obscene - gruff, soft groans as he adulates your pussy, pushing his mouth in closer. Your fingers tug tighter on his roots at the consuming feeling, back lifting from the bed in an arch, mindlessly grinding your cunt into his face. 
Within minutes, you become a twitching, moaning pile of mush, coating his chin with your slick as you cum - thighs clamping around Bucky's head between.
He places a final kiss on your pubic bone before pulling away, standing up with a chubbed-up cock in his pants, the area tenting after tasting you. You hold his gaze, looking up at him with blissed eyes and a stir in your stomach - the sight of him making your cunt twitch. 
He wipes the wet from his chin on the back of his hand, briskly drying his stubble before undressing his lower half - tugging down on his combat pants and boxers, letting the material pool around his ankles as his cock springs free. Full length hard and ready, tip leaking precum. 
You scooch up your bed, resting flat with your head on the pillow, eagerly awaiting him. Your thighs instinctively spread as he crawls up the bed and between your legs, slotting his lower half between you - anchoring his weight on his hands either side of your head.
He leans in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, the residual creamy slick transferring onto your own. Cock absentmindedly rubbing up against your pussy, the faint friction making you whimper into his mouth.
Your hands hook into the hem of his t-shirt, fingers gripping the bottom of the fabric as you guide it up his back, pulling it over his head as you break the kiss - his chest now bare and up against yours. 
Balancing on his left metal hand, he dips the other between you, reaching for his cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. He gives himself a few short strokes, guiding his head towards you - pushing his tip through the slick of your folds, coating his cock in your wetness before sinking into you.
You take him at your own pace, walls fluttering and loosening around his shaft as he eases more of himself into you - your pussy swallowing little bits of him at a time. Your hand paws at his wrist placed on your hip, fingers enveloping around the thickness, silently pleading and begging him to get closer.
He looks down at the lewd sight of you spread out in front of him: your brows knitted, eyes soft, lips bitten - natural, unadulterated beauty all desperate and malleable for him. He notices the bliss cloud in your eyes and gives your glistening, stuffed pussy a final once over before hovering back over you, chest lingering above yours. 
His lips skim over your jaw, trailing even more kisses down the side of your throat, giving you easing, reassuring pecks as he slips more of his cock into you - distracting you from the dull ache. 
"You are so beautiful," he whispers into your skin, sealing the compliment with a kiss. "You really are," he adds, pressing kisses into your shoulder. "I don't know how you don't see it."
You bend at the knee, holding it at his side - the new angle opening your hips wider, allowing that last bit of his cock to slide in, head hitting at the hilt. You keep him snug to you, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, your other leg entangling with his as your lips shadow each other. 
The moonlit room fills with soft, wet clicking - the sound of your pussy and sticky skin hitting cuts through the bliss-filled noises that slip past both of your lips, lewd noises surrounding you in the dark.
Bucky pulls his forehead from the crook of your neck to look down at you, eyes hinting at something - like his mind was temporarily elsewhere.
"Earlier," he starts, his voice hoarse as his hips wind into you, cock rubbing your walls so nicely. "When you said that thing," he adds, following your eyes when they bashfully divert away. "You tell me when you feel like that... I'd be happy to remind you just how pretty you are."
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a/n. I had an idea for myself, what?? and my first full fic in almost a year?? hope you enjoyed, bc I surprisingly don’t hate this💌
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zarameraki · 16 hours
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♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut
: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k
: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
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The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.
Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.
The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.
Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.
That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.
You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.
“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”
“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.
Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.
“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.
Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.
As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.
Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.
Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.
Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.
In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.
“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”
You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.
As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.
She’s feeble.
Her hair lacks refinement.
The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.
She’ll be gone by tomorrow.
Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.
Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.
But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.
Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.
They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.
Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.
Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.
Good.
You craved precisely that outcome.
If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.
Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.
As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.
“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.
Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.
“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”
“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.
She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.
You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.
“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.
With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.
“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.
“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.
As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.
“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.
“Y/N, my Lord.”
As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.
A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.
You blinked in astonishment.
He appeared . . . young?
The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.
Physically, at least.
His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.
As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.
With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.
The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.
Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.
“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”
Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.
Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?
“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”
Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.
Would he?
A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.
“Look at me.”
Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.
“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”
“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”
Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.
Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.
As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.
“Don’t.”
In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.
Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?
“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.
A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.
He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.
“Turn around.”
The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.
“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”
Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.
Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.
A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.
Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.
“My Lord—”
“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”
Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.
Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.
His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.
Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.
With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.
Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.
Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.
His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.
Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”
You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.
“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.
Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.
You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.
In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.
Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.
“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.
“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”
“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”
His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.
As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.
“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”
“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”
“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”
Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.
“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.
“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.
“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”
“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”
“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.
With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.
Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.
“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”
“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.
In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.
Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.
Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.
They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.
But why you?
Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?
“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.
“No.”
“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”
Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”
You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.
“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”
“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.
With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.
As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.
Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.
Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.
Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.
Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.
No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.
“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”
You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.
For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.
You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.
As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.
But that moment never arrived.
Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.
“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.
“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.
The room fell into a sudden hush.
Dine with him?
The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.
Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.
Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.
With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.
Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.
“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.
“Draw near.”
Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.
“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.
You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”
Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.
“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.
His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”
You blushed deeper at his statement.
“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his hand, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.
Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”
“Do what?”
“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”
Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.
Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.
“I ventured into town today,” he said.
“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”
“Indeed, quite fruitful.”
In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.
Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.
His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, his mouth devoid of teeth, scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.
The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”
Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair, a twisted token of affection. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.
“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.
You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.
Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.
Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.
A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.
Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.
With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.
Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.
Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.
But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.
You glanced back again.
Until Sukuna.
Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.
It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.
No one would dare suspect the truth.
No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.
No one, except Sukuna.
Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.
With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.
A comforting warmth touched your back.
Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.
As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”
Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”
“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”
“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who dare cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks." His lips brushed against yours. "From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love."
That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.
He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rich and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.
In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.
Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.
On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.
Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.
Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.
Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.
Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.
Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.
Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?
“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.
You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”
“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”
With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”
Sukuna snapped the book shut.
You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.
With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.
This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.
“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”
With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.
“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”
Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"
Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.
“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”
“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”
Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.
Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.
With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.
As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.
Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.
Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.
With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.
“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”
Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.
With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.
Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.
Together, you sailed upon the waves of carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—
Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.
You had achieved victory.
His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.
With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.
You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.
“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”
“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.
You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.
“Did I please you, my Lo—”
“Ryomen,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”
“My L—”
“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.
You affirmed your agreement with a nod, the name Ryomen echoing through your mind. Sukuna had been your private moniker for him, but now, in this intimate exchange, he was Ryomen. Your Ryomen. Maybe one day, you would shorten it to Ryo.
“Very well, Ryomen.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”
“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”
“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”
“As you are,” Ryomen answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”
Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.
“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”
Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.
A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.
As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.
Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”
“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with defiance.
“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.
Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”
“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”
Your brow furrowed in dismay.
It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.
You no longer wished to endure this charade.
You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”
Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Ryomen,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.
In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.
“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”
You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.
“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”
“Ryomen,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.
“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”
With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.
Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.
Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.
Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.
“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.
Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Ryomen,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.
“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”
You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”
With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”
You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.
“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.
Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.
“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”
Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.
Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.
“Ryomen . . . ”
With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.
But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.
And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.
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bbyleiah · 7 months
Text
smoke you out.
| just a random cheating fic I wrote about Eren stealing Connie’s girl 🫣 |
Cw: smut, cheating, bf!Connie, lots of dirty talk (eren has a filthy mouth 🫦) dry humping, riding, biting, sorta mating press, unprotected sex, cream pie, squirting, tummy bulge, hair pulling, scratching, fluids, pet names, etc. fem! shy sub reader & dom!Eren. (pretty good amount of plot though ☝🏽) (also it may not seem like it but the reader is def black 😭)
word count : long asf 😭
sn : I don’t know a single thing abt smoking fr so my apologies if the lingo is inaccurate 😭
part 2 🤩 : breakfast <3
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You tripped over your little feet as you tried to keep up with your boyfriend Connie. He didn’t pay you any mind at all as he dapped up his friends at this house party gathering. Your feet were starting to hurt in your cute Mary Jane shoes. As you tripped, Eren caught your arm before you could embarrassingly fall on your face.
You sheepishly looked up at the tall, clearly high male. “sorry..” You muttered softly. “You’re good, little one.” Eren hummed as he let you go. You blushed and scurried off, finding your boyfriend again. He was finally not moving anymore, sitting in the kitchen with all his homies, smoking and drinking.
You honestly hated when he dragged you to these parties because it really wasn’t your kind of environment, and it wasn’t like he stayed by your side or made you feel welcome at these gatherings. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like Connie could care less about you with the way he ignored you and constantly forgot about you. But it was also confusing because he was super overprotective and possessive of you at times.
You were just his obedient pretty little girlfriend that followed him around but that role was getting tiring. despite disliking these parties, all of Connie’s friends always made you feel safe and welcomed so it wasn’t too bad. You stood quietly beside Connie, drinking water and fanning second hand smoke away from your face as he enjoyed his time with his friends.
His friends acknowledged you occasionally which was nice, but everytime you tried to talk to Connie he’d dismiss you or give half ass replies. You sighed and gave up eventually until you had to use the restroom. “Con, can you walk me to the bathroom please?” You asked him sweetly as you tugged on his sleeve. “Eh, why can’t you go by yourself princess?” He asked as he directed his attention towards you.
“Because I feel uncomfortable going alone with all these people I don’t know..” You told him, you felt like your stance was valid. Connie sighed, “I get that but you should be fine baby, everyone knows you’re my girl so I doubt they’ll bother you.” Connie said as he took another hit from his blunt. You pouted, “But..” you started but Eren interjected. “I’ll walk with her.” He offered.
“Look at that sweetheart, you got yourself a volunteer. Thanks bro.” Connie chuckled. You huffed softly and rolled your eyes at Connie’s nonchalant attitude, you honestly would rather just walk alone at this point. But you made your way through the crowd of people with Eren and up the stairs.
“thank you for walking with me even though you didn’t have to.” You said gratefully to Eren with a sigh, sulking a bit still over Connie and his lack of care for you. “No problem. I know Connie can be a dickhead sometimes.” Eren shrugged honestly. Your eyes widened at his words as you stared up at him. Eren chuckled at your reaction, “What? he’s my bestfriend. I can freely insult him. Just as he’d do to me. It’s all love you know?” Eren chuckled.
“I guess..I’d never insult Connie though. He’s a great boyfriend even though he has his faults.” You defended, Eren snorted in amusement. “Whatever makes your pretty head feel better.” He shrugged. You used the restroom and to your surprise Eren waited outside the door for you the whole time. “I-..you didn’t have to wait for me.” You stammered. “What’s the point of walking you if I don’t wait on you also?. I don’t mind it.” He said.
He had a point to be fair. “true..thanks again though.” You said. As you two began to walk again, you stumbled once more, these shoes were really starting to be your enemy. “You okay?” Eren asked you. “Yeah, these shoes are just a little uncomfortable.” You sighed as you tried to adjust the shoes.
Eren observed you before he suddenly picked you up, you yelped in shock, eyes going wide as you hit Eren’s shoulder. “Eren! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed. “Relax, I’m just tryna help” He said as he carried you back into the bathroom. He sat you down on the countertop and sat down in front of you before grabbing your foot gently.
He slipped off your shoe and that’s when you saw the bleeding bruise on the back on your heel. “Oh..” you mumbled. “You didn’t notice this until now? Wasn’t it painful?” Eren asked as he looked up at you. “It was..but I didn’t think it was that bad.” You muttered honestly. Eren sighed, “You should be more careful, or buy more comfortable shoes.” Eren said as he began to clean the blood. You hissed at the sting and kicked Eren by accident, he didn’t budge though, focused on treating you.
This was such an odd predicament you were in. Eren had paid more attention to you in a few minutes than your boyfriend did in months. You didn’t know why Eren was being so caring to you but you were soaking it up since you lacked it lately. “I would’ve worn my comfy shoes if I knew I was gonna be chasing Connie around again..” You muttered with a sigh.
Eren didn’t comment on that. You just observed Eren as he treated both of your heels. You never noticed his full appearance until now, his low bun with loose hairs framing his face, his low red eyes and sculpted nose, his black sweats and black tee combo with a small chain, the small studs in his ears. Eren was gorgeous to say the least. “Don’t look at me like that or I’ll do something bad and you’ll regret it more than me little one.” Eren said as he gently placed some bandaids he’d found on your bruises.
You were caught off guard by his words, starting to blush. “I-I didn’t mean to stare so much..I’m sorry.” You said as you hid your face in your hands out of embarrassment. Eren chuckled and pulled your hands away, “It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize to me. I don’t mind you staring, but I meant what I said. I don’t have much self control.” Eren hummed as he stared into your eyes, his hand caressing your calf making you squirm a little.
“I uhm..” You truly didn’t know how to respond, chewing on your lip as you struggled to find words. Something about Eren’s vague words and the way he looked at you made you feel weird, the energy didn’t seem appropriate. “We should get back with the others.” You managed to say. Eren chuckled, “You’re right…or we could ditch them and hang out? I prefer smoking privately anyways. I could smoke you out real good too.” Eren suggested with a sly grin.
You stared at Eren in shock again, “Connie would kill me! Also I don’t smoke much.” You blurted. “He’s not even worried about you. plus you’re with me, his bestfriend and he trusts me. You seem like you have a low tolerance so I can still smoke you out even if you don’t smoke much” Eren hummed.
You chewed on your lip again as you pondered wether to accept Eren’s offer. Everything he said was right, and you knew Connie wasn’t looking for you or even thinking about you at the moment. You also knew that you’d be miserable following Connie around more. “okay, I’ll go with you. but let Connie know, I don’t want him thinking anything weird.” You said.
Eren subtly rolled his eyes, “sure, I’ll inform your master” Eren teased. “Hey! He’s not my master!” You huffed with a pout. Eren laughed, “You follow him like a little puppy though. You know I should start calling you pup, has a nice ring to it.” Eren only teased more, laughing harder when you kicked him this time on purpose. “I’m just loyal to my boyfriend.” You muttered with another huff as you crossed your arms.
“I get it. I’ll stop teasing. Let’s go little one.” Eren chuckled as he helped you down from the countertop. You slipped your shoes back on and then you and Eren left and made your way to his car. Eren wasn’t planning on informing Connie of shit, he felt like it was none of Connie’s business what you two were up to, to be honest.
He only told a small lie so he didn’t feel too bad about it. Once y’all got into his black vintage mustang, Eren turned on the radio, rnb starting to play lowly in the background as Eren began to roll up. “You smoke papers sweetheart?” Eren asked as he grinded his weed. You stared at him completely clueless, “…I don’t know, what’s papers? I just smoke whatever Connie gives me.” You said honestly.
Eren chuckled, “These are papers, they’re white. They aren’t brown like rellos. I smoke joints, not blunts. Although I don’t mind either. Also don’t say no shit like that ever again, don’t just smoke whatever is given to you. Make sure it’s safe first and that you know exactly what it is.” Eren said seriously suddenly. You pouted, feeling like you just got scolded a little. “I trust Connie though..but I get what you mean. I’ll take your advice.” You said, understanding his point.
“Good Girl. You can watch me and see exactly what you’ll be smoking and all the steps.” Eren hummed. Your brain short-circuited a bit at the sudden praise, hearing Eren say that felt nice..really nice and it made you want to hear it more. Those feelings felt wrong though so you pushed them away. You watched Eren closely as he rolled up; placing the grinded weed into the papers, setting it straight and then running his tongue along the seams before closing the joint.
You unconsciously clenched your thighs seeing Eren lick the joint, you didn’t know why a sight you’d seen many times suddenly seemed so attractive. “You have a tongue piercing?!” You blurted after spotting the little ball. Eren chuckled, “I do, got it a few years back. You must’ve been paying real close attention to notice that” Eren teased a little.
“I wasn’t looking that hard!” You defended yourself as you blushed slightly. Eren laughed, “You’re so damn cute, fuck.” Eren said while shaking his head as he laughed. Your eyes went wide at that comment, now blushing a lot. It was extremely flattering hearing that from someone as attractive as Eren and it made you shy.
You composed yourself though, trying to act as if the small compliment didn’t effect you as much as it did. “Did it hurt when you got it?” You asked him out of curiosity, going back on topic. You watched as Eren placed the joint between his lips, lighting it with his lighter, the flame casting a glow on his face and highlighting his features.
He inhaled, holding it for a few seconds before he exhaled with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. It was honestly the most mouthwatering sight you’d ever witnessed. Suddenly you had zero thoughts, just solely focused on Eren. “Mhm, it hurt but mostly during the healing process. I like pain though so I didn’t mind it.” Eren hummed.
His words broke you out of your sudden trance. “You like pain? That’s weird.” You said, not fully understanding how someone could enjoy pain. Eren chuckled, “Eh, it feels good. To me at least.” He said as he handed the joint to you. You tried to take a hit, immediately going into an embarrassing coughing fit. “That’s not how you do it sweetheart, you’re too harsh with it, relax I’ll help you.” Eren laughed softly.
Eren then grabbed the joint from your hands and held it up to your mouth. “Open.” He instructed, humming in approval once you listened. He gently placed the joint between your lips, holding it there. “Close and inhale slowly.” He continued. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes as Eren guided you step by step. This wasn’t your first time smoking at all but you liked how attentive Eren was, you couldn’t get enough of it.
“Hold it.” Eren hummed as he pulled the joint from between your lips. “Now exhale slowly.” He said, pressing his fingers into your slightly puffed out cheeks as you obediently exhaled the smoke into his face. “Good girl, such a good listener.” Eren praised again with a small grin as he gently stroked your chin, underneath your bottom lip.
You almost let out a whine at that, Eren’s words and his presence was starting to affect you more and more by the hour. You were trying your best to ignore it but you wanted him so badly that it was getting hard to contain. “What did I say about looking at me like that?. Little one..it’s like you’re trying to tempt me.” Eren said, his eyes low and holding a look that seemed as if he wanted to tear you apart.
Truth be told, Eren always wanted you. He always had his eye on you ever since Connie brought you around. He knew that he paid more attention to you than Connie ever did and that he could treat you better. But you were always glued to Connie so Eren never made any moves. He knew it was kinda fucked up to be interested in his bestfriend’s girl but he couldn’t care less. He was no better than Connie to be honest.
“I-I’m not! I don’t mean to look at you like that..I don’t even know how I’m looking at you.” You fumbled over your words as you blushed brightly. “You’re looking at me as if you want me to fuck the shit out of you. Is that what you want sweetheart? Want to feel me in your tummy?” Eren said, continuing to smoke nonchalantly as he stared at you. You whined at his lewd words, your thighs squeezing together.
“Don’t talk like that! that’s inappropriate, and I’m with Connie.” You exclaimed. Eren rolled his eyes, “I don’t need the reminder, I know that. You say it’s inappropriate but you’re clenching your thighs and whining like a slut at the thought of me inside you. You want it so badly, don’t you?. Want me to stuff your little cunt?” Eren teased.
You let out another whine, you were honestly so wet by now at his words. You felt so ashamed that you wanted another man, especially the man that was closest to your boyfriend. “eren…we can’t..” you muttered, tears filling your eyes as you pouted up at him. “shh, it’s okay little one. don’t think about Connie just for a minute and answer me. Do you want me?” Eren asked as he cupped your face gently.
You chewed on your lip as you nodded honestly in response. “Use your words for me baby.” Eren hummed as he lightly pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb. You let out a shaky breath, “I do want you…so badly.” you finally admitted truthfully as you looked into Eren’s eyes. He grinned hearing that. “I want you too baby, more than you even know. You wanna sit on my cock?” Eren hummed.
You nodded and basically pounced on him, as if you hadn’t had any restrictions about this whole thing at all. You suddenly didn’t care anymore as you climbed onto Eren’s lap, straddling him as the two of you began to kiss messily and needily. Eren gripped your hips as you began to grind down on him like you were in heat, whining and whimpering into his mouth.
You sucked on Eren’s tongue, making him groan and buck his hips up into yours. You were so wet that a wet spot was already starting to form on Eren’s sweats. “please~” You whined as you broke the kiss, your small hands tugging at the strings to Eren’s sweatpants eagerly. “you can go ahead baby” Eren hummed as he left opened mouth kisses on your neck.
You untied his sweats and pulled them down, his hard cock coming out dribbling precum. He was so big, veins running along the sides of his cock. You wanted to drool at the sight. Eren bunched your skirt up around your waist, pushing your panties aside before he began to run his tip up and down your slit. You were a whining mess, your thighs trembling already from how sensitive and needy you were.
“so fucking whiny and wet. You’re already soaking my cock pretty baby and I’m not even inside you yet.” Eren gritted out. You only whimpered in response, your nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. Eren positioned himself and pushed the tip in, letting you sink down onto his cock as the both of you moaned in unison.
“so big…” you whined shakily as Eren bottomed out. “Mhm, you feel me in your tummy baby?” Eren asked as he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing on the bulge imprint his dick made. you moaned at the feeling and nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as your pussy gushed around Eren’s cock. “fuck..” he swore under his breath.
Once you adjusted you began to ride Eren, bouncing on his cock effortlessly as you moaned and whined nonstop. Eren was just as noisy as you were, groaning into your neck as he licked and bit at your skin. “n-no marks ‘ren” you managed to stutter out in your already fucked out state. Eren didn’t like the sound of that at all, growling in response. He understood why you said that but he just didn’t care.
“You’re mine and I’ll mark you as much as I want to. Because to be quite honest sweetheart I don’t give two fucks about your little relationship.” Eren said honestly as he began to suck harsh bruises onto your neck. You whined, Eren’s words were shocking to you but they also turned you on so much that you couldn’t even bother to fight against it. Your fingers tangled in Eren’s hair as he marked you up like he had something to prove, sinking his teeth into you and making you hiss in pain.
“hurts~” You whimpered, tears in your eyes from the intense pleasure of Eren’s dick hitting your sweet spot at just the right angle and because of the stinging pain. “I know baby” Eren hummed as he ran his tongue along the bite marks and bruises to soothe the sting. “Feel so good around me sweet girl, should’ve fucked you sooner.” Eren moaned as he fucked up into you, matching your pace.
Eren bit his lip as he looked at where your bodies connected, the white ring around his cock and the amount of slick coating his trimmed pubic hairs. “shit..I don’t think I’m ever gonna pull out.” Eren muttered, mesmerized by the sight of your cunt swallowing up his thick cock. By now the car reeked of sex and weed, the windows were all fogged up, the radio was still playing sensual rnb tunes lowly in the background but you and eren had tuned it out at this point and neither of you had a clue what time it was.
“you gonna let me cum inside you baby?” Eren asked as he began to rub circles into your clit making you cry out in pleasure, your seamless bouncing stuttering a bit. “you shouldn’t..” You whined as you finally opened and focused your glazed over eyes enough to look at Eren. He looked delicious, his hair damp and the strands sticking to his forehead, his bun a complete mess from your constant tugging.
His lips swollen and red from the kissing and his work of marking you, your nails marks on his neck and shoulder blades, his pupils dilated and his eyes dazed. You couldn’t look away from him. “Mm, I shouldn’t but I want to so so badly. Wanna fill you up so good princess. You want that don’t you?” Eren said as he kissed your cheeks and pecked your lips. His sweet gentle kisses and tone of voice was such a contrast to how his dick was abusing your cervix and how his hands were gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
It was making your mind all hazy and it wasn’t helping that your orgasm was approaching, that coil in your stomach tightening as Eren played with your clit. “I do wan’ it, want you to fill me up. Please~” You whined, your words slurring as you rocked your hips and clutched Eren’s shirt between your hands. The lewd wet sound of skin slapping and your combined moans filled the car. You looked even more fucked out than Eren did.
Thighs coated in both of your fluids, drool at the corner of your lips, eyes rolled and fluttering, head titled back with your hair sticking to you, hickies and bites covering your neck and collarbone, dried tears on your cheeks, clothes disheveled. Eren thought you looked beautiful and he was completely enamored by you. “fuck, you’re perfect. I’m gonna fill you up so full baby and I’m gonna make you mine. Fuck Connie.” Eren rambled as he fucked up into you.
Eren repositioned his arms underneath your knees, holding you up and sitting himself up further as he folded your legs up and pressed you against the steering wheel. the steering wheel pressing into your back was a bit uncomfy but the new angle Eren was fucking you in was heavenly, had you seeing stars. You don’t think you had ever been fucked this good, not even by your own boyfriend.
“m’ gonna cum~” You whined out, sobbing in pleasure and scratching down Eren’s back underneath his shirt as you felt your orgasm about to burst. “you can cum sweet girl, make a big mess for me.” Eren hummed as he placed kisses on your chest and boobs. Eren’s own orgasm was approaching too, his thrusts getting more uncoordinated and rougher as he chased it.
After a few more thrusts of Eren hitting that spot that made your toes curl, and the friction of his pubic hairs rubbing up against your clit you came with a loud moan of Eren’s name. Squirted all over him as your pussy clenched and unclenched around Eren’s cock. Eren groaned at the feeling, his eyes rolling back as he fucked you through your orgasm. “shitt sweetheart. so fucking messy, fuck!” Eren moaned as you soaked him in your climax.
It didn’t take long after for Eren to cum after you, whimpering into your neck as he filled you up with ropes and ropes of his cum. Eren hadn’t cum this much in his life, stuffing you to the brim as some of it poured out the seams. Eren’s thrusts slowed and he eased back into a proper seating position with you still sitting on his dick, twitching and whining as you were completely fucked out.
Eren took a moment to breathe and process the situation and you had dozed off, completely exhausted as you fell into a deep sleep on top of Eren. You looked so peaceful and cute it made Eren grin and he couldn’t help but to sneakily snap a picture of you before pecking your forehead. Eren checked the time and realized you two had been at it for almost three hours. It was 4 in the morning now.
“Jesus..you milked me dry little one.” Eren muttered while shaking his head. Eren started the car back up and began to drive, not bothering to move you or to pull out since he didn’t want to wake you. Eren knew he fucked up by sleeping with Connie’s girl but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single second of it.
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lineffability · 8 months
Text
"Crowley."
Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.
"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."
"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.
"I need your help" Aziraphale said.
"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.
The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.
"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."
"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.
Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.
"Why are you here?"
Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)
"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"
"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."
There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."
"No."
"This is important." (This isn't about us.)
"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)
"You do! You always have."
"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."
"That's not what I meant."
With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)
Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."
The words dropped like a lead balloon.
There was utter silence between them.
Why were they so close?
Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.
But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.
He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.
There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.
This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.
This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.
"I'm sorry. I need to go."
"Of course you do."
"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."
And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?
With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.
Crowley was alone.
His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.
And failed considerably.
I love you.
(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)
[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]
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byechristopher · 4 months
Note
can you make a chris make up sex??? please
Make it up to me.
– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT, FLUFF.
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Author's note: love me some good make-up sex – sorry I took so long to respond! Thank you for the request, dear. Hope you like this. Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Warnings: smut smut smut. Minors dni! Didn't proof-read!
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"I feel a little neglected lately." my voice is timid but I let a little sigh of relief leave my lips.
I am not used to speaking about my emotions loudly like this, expressing them so freely, let alone in front of Chris. He is my boyfriend but I've always had trouble doing that – it's something I've been trying to fix for a while now.
"Neglected?" he has a tone in his voice that I don't appreciate and I am already regretting my decision to speak my mind, "I don't have time to fucking rest, what are you talking about?" he scoffs and leans back, one of his hands still grab the steering wheel and he sighs, fluffing his hair up with his free hand.
"Just forget it." I roll my eyes, leaning back against the car seat as well, glancing out the window, "forget I even said anything."
"Don't play that card now." I can feel his eyes on me but I refuse look at him.
"I'm not playing any cards. Would you rather have me not telling you anything? Because you know damn well I can do that." I shrug, finally looking at him.
"No, I don't want that. But you're being irrational." his eyebrows are raised and so are his shoulders.
"And you're being rational?" I narrow my eyes, almost like challenging him, "I understand that you are busy but when I tell you I fucking feel neglected, I'm expecting.. I don't know.. maybe a little bit of affection?" I cross my arms, "or is that not possible? To ask that from my relationship?"
"Stop being like this. You just have to understand me! I just don't have time!" he tries to defend himself but every time, he just says something that pisses me off even more.
"Well, that's your fucking problem, Chris. Because I'm working a lot too, you know? But I always make time for you, no matter how exhausted I am. And that's what relationships are about! Making constant sacrifices for each other." I try to explain as much as possible, "and I do understand you, I've been patient for a long time but now it's your turn."
"Well I never fucking complained about you being busy!" he knows he's just saying irrarional bullshit now.
"You never had to! Because I've actually got my shit together. You never had the chance to feel neglected." I stare into his eyes, "oh and also, what I just did, was not complaining. It's called 'expressing my goddamn feelings', something that you're terrible at, even more than me."
And with that, I get out of the car, quickly taking out the keys so I can open our apartment door. He makes me so angry sometimes – he is the best boyfriend in the world, but sometimes, he just doesn't get it.
Hours pass by and we haven't said a single word to each other; I refuse to speak to him, until he understands that he has to make sacrifices too. I can't always just chase him around, taking a step back just to avoid conflict.
A knock on the door of our bedroom is what wakes me up from my own thoughts, "can I come in?"
"Yes, you can."
Chris opens the door and takes a careful glance of me – I am just laying on the bed, under the covers, I am only in my underwear and a t-shirt just to be comfortable. He sighs and lifts the covers so that he can lay beside me, cupping my cheek so gently, his touch is careful and timid.
"I needed some time to think about what you said. And I wanted to apologise." he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "you're right. You're working a lot too, but you always make time for me and I am very grateful for that."
I don't say anything, I notice that he's still thinking, just waiting for him to continue.
"I don't want to make any excuses but I felt very overwhelmed lately because of work, and I didn't want to admit it. I haven't been able to sit down and actually try to manage my schedule but I promise to work on it immediately." he smiles apologetically.
"Baby, I know you didn't do it on purpose." I sigh, "but when I tell you how I'm feeling, I need you to try to understand before getting defensive."
"I know and you are right. It was the part of me that didn't want to admit that I'm actually so busy, so tired and so awful at trying to fit everything in my schedule. This is why I got defensive. Next time I will be better, though." he says and I nod, leaning into his touch, rubbing my cheek against his palm.
"I know you will. We all do mistakes. Thank you for taking your time to think about it." I grin and he wraps an arm around my waist – I waste no time, I immediately press my body against his.
"Of course, baby. I needed to be sure before I come and find you." he sighs and hugs me tightly, sneaking his leg in between mine. I smile and lean in to place a kiss on his lips.
He keeps talking but I am too focused on his lips, or the leg between my legs, or the hands that hold my waist. I listen to what he says but I can feel my arousal burning me. My thighs squeeze his leg and my lips rub themselves against his – I stick my tongue out to lick his bottom lip and that's when he takes the hint.
"What are you doing there, hm?" he hums, his fingers gripping my sides a little harder now.
"I think you need to make it up to me, no? For making me wait all this time while you were thinking." I murmur, my lips going from his lips to his cheek, to his chin and then finally his neck.
He groans and pulls his sweatpants down, not wanting to lose any time either. He places his leg between mine again and I press my clothed pussy against his thigh, making him feel my wetness as I start to rub myself against him.
"I'll make it up to you as many times as you want." he bites down his bottom lip as he slowly takes my shirt off. He's only wearing his boxers and I'm wearing my panties, we're still under the covers.
He grips my waist and I start to fully grind on him, rocking my hips, moving them back and forth on his thigh, "Chris. I want you." I whisper and he smiles.
"I can feel it." he whispers and leans in to take my earlobe in his mouth, sucking on it, moaning into my ear as he sneaks a finger between his thigh and my pussy, rubbing it while still putting pressure with his leg.
I almost whine at how much wetter he made me in just one second, and I travel my hand down his body to grab his clothed dick, taking it out to wrap my fingers around it, rubbing up and down his shaft.
He moans and I can feel his body shaking a little bit – he leans in and takes my nipple in his mouth, groaning around it and biting it gently. I gasp and tug on his hair. He grabs his own cock and brings it closer to my pussy, rubbing the tip of it against my panties, making it even wetter.
"Mmm, Chris.." moaning, I wrap my arms around him, trying to rub myself against his cock as much as possible.
With his fingers, he pushes my panties to the side and starts rubbing the tip of his wet cock against my clit, making sure to run it over my entrance, collecting my juices and then rubbing them all over my clit again.
"Please fuck me already, I am ready for you." I whine, I want to scream how much I want him right now.
He moans at my words and completely takes my panties off. He grabs my leg and hooks his arm under my knee, keep my leg lifted as he teases my pussy. He finally pushes inside of me and I lose it – I couldn't believe I could get any more wet, but apparently I can.
"Shit, baby.. you're so wet and warm." he moans, burying his face into my neck to press kisses all over my skin. His thrusts are gentle and slow as he fucks into me with love, while bruising my skin with kisses at the same time.
I moan and cup his cheeks, making him look at me before attacking his lips with passionate kisses. He grabs the leg that he's been lifting up again, making me wrap it around his waist as he rolls over to his back, making me get on top of him while still being inside of me.
"Fuck.. yes.. like this.." I whisper in his ear – I am completely laying on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chest, my legs on either side of him, my face buried in his neck and my hands grabbing his hair.
I can hear him moaning my name as he starts picking up the pace, fucking me a little harder this time – his hands are on my buttcheeks, squeezing them and spreading them as he pushes his cock in and out.
"Hell.. I don't think I can last any longer, baby girl.." he curses under his breath and moans into my ear softly, heavy breathing, placing a soft kiss on it.
"I'm gonna cum.." I warn, too, my pussy clenching around him as I feel him lifting my body up and down – I am at his mercy, completely.
"Mhmm, cum on my dick." he whispers and I let out a loud moan, tugging on his hair again. My body is trembling as he gives my butt a little smack and that's all it takes for me to cum with a loud moan of his name.
He groans and starts thrusting into me with a much faster pace, his fingers digging into the skin of my ass as he finally cums inside of me with a loud moan as well. I can feel him filling me up and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
We sit there in silence for quite a while, "I love make-up sex." I mumble against his shoulder and he laughs.
"I love you." he whispers, he hasn't moved an inch, still inside of me.
"Good, I love you too. Let me stay like this for a while."
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norrisleclercf1 · 8 months
Text
You’re My Love Story
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2.9K
Requested: Yes/No
Warnings: Time Jumps, Angst, Fluff, Christian Horner is an ass in this, Gerri is team you and Charles, Happy Ending, I promise
A/N: I've been listening to my favorite Taylor Swift songs a lot while I study and couldn't help but put each one to a driver, this one is for Charles
Poll Winner
Synopsis: Love Stories are meant to be heartbreaking, but would yours be the opposite?
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2014, Ages: 17 and 16
You hated these parties, boring and stuffy. You're forced to wear a dress far too fancy for your taste, but your mother just wanted you to look nice. A party in the Monaco summer air had you wishing you could be swimming in the ocean than smiling and faking remembrance of people you don't know.
Your father was moving from person to person, shaking hands, laughing at crude jokes that had your mother giving him multiple looks. He's quick to stop, clearing his throat as he introduces you.
"My daughter, Y/N Horner. Sweetie, this is-" You zone out, giving a picturesque smile and faking interest in the conversation. "Mama, can I go take a breather? It's hot in the dress." You whisper. Firey hair turns, giving you her approval and whispering for you to not go far. "I won't, just on the balcony." Pointing to the double doors open, exposing the sparkling lights of Monte Carlo.
Floating through the crowd, stepping out on the balcony, you suck in the tinge of cold air clinging to the night. Your posture drops when you don't feel your mother's eyes on you, leaning over the railing. Laughter draws your attention to the people below as they dance around each other, talking loudly and freely.
Your heart yearns for that to be you, to escape this place and have some real fun. But, your father would refuse, saying you had to uphold your family name. The name, you sometimes hated being a Horner. Anytime someone would hear that last name, it was always followed by the same question.
"You're Christian Horner's daughter? Team Principle of Red Bull?" Like a broken record, you smile, nod, and give the infamous one-liner back. "Yes, and I fully support the F1 Team. They're definitely going to win." Everyone getting hyped hearing those words.
And why wouldn't they? You had the ultimate powerhouse Sebastian Vettel and the up-and-coming Australian driver Daniel Ricciardo. Speaking of which, turning around your eyes and scan the crowd, not hearing the familiar groups of laughter around Daniel.
Not seeing Daniel, you notice a boy make his way through the crowd instead. He was new. You could tell from how no one talked to him, say a few people but not enough for him to be somebody. His suit was nice, hair stringy as he looked around before darting onto the balcony with you.
"Oh, hello." His eyes widened, finally noticing that he wasn't alone out here. "Hi." Giving a curt answer and moving to leave. "Wait, you don't have to leave!" His hand grabs your wrist, making you turn, shocked that someone would touch you.
"Sorry." Hand-dropping as he fidgets, you clock in quick that he has never done something like this. "Have you ever been to one of these parties?" Hazel-green eyes pinch, hating that it was noticeable. "No," He trails off, playing with a ring on his finger. "Okay, yes. I'm a driver. But, just for Formula Renault. I'm driving for a British team called Fortec Motorsports," He looks up, sees your bored face, and sighs. "And you clearly don't care." Huffing, he leans on the railing missing your growing smile.
Laughing, you move closer. "No, I know the team. Daddy talks about all the younger teams all the time." The boy looks at you, his body more relaxed as he smiles. "Really? If you're here, you must be a daughter of a retired driver or worker, right?" He asks, teasing you.
Instead, you feel that familiar dread. Does he know who you are? Pretending to approach you and be nice just to meet your father? It won't surprise you if that is true.
"Yeah, I am." Back straight, wrapping yourself back in that perfect media daughter cover. "Oh, that's cool. My godfather is a driver. Made me come along and try to mingle. You see how well it's going. You're the first person to actually talk to me." Your heart picks up, seeing that smile directed at you.
The two of you talk away the rest of the night; laughter and blushes pass between you. Only for your bubble to be popped when your father's voice cuts through.
"Y/n? Are you ready to le-" You and the boy jump back, having been very close. Looks of guilt on both your faces have your father freezing. "Y/n, go to your mother now." Voice stern, no room for argument. With a nod, head down, you slip past your father. "Wait! I didn't tell you my name; I'm Charles. Charles Leclerc." A blush spreads over your cheeks, seeing that heart-stopping smile again.
"Nice to meet you, Charles. I'm Y/n Horner." Your introduction is ended when your father grabs your arm, dragging you away from Charles, the balcony boy.
2017, Ages 20 & 19
"Charles, stop throwing pebbles." Giggles as you poke your head out the window, seeing a red and white shirt in the dark. "What? You weren't answering my texts." He whispers, yelling up to your window. "I was studying. Shouldn't you be getting ready for your last F2 race?" Leaning out the window, your heart still beating fast in your chest, seeing that smile.
"Wanted to see you." He admits, scanning the wall, trying to figure a way up to you. "Charles, if Daddy knows you're here, we're dead." It's been 3 years since you met Charles on that balcony and 1 year since your father gave you strict order for Charles to stay away from you.
At that time, the two of you couldn't stay apart. Your mother caught you more than once sneaking out. With a smile, she'd just nod, kiss you on the cheek and tell you to be careful. "So? I wanted to tell you some exciting news. So, you either come down here, or I come up." Dropping your head, you have to cover your laughter. "Wait." He nods, watching the outline of your body dip back in the window.
You curse as the bedroom door creeks, and you whisper that you'll get it fixed. The hallway plunged into darkness, with no light from your parent's bedroom. Score. Sliding out of the doorway, you tiptoe like clouds are under your feet. On the steps, your body freezes when a step groans under pressure.
Taking a moment to ensure no one woke you wait before darting down the hallway to the kitchen's back door. Charles jumps, worried that it's your father, but instead, you close the door and stop staring at one another.
"Hello." Smiles pull on both your lips, darting forward. He opens his arms gathering you in them. "Hi." You gasp, arms and legs wrapped tight around him. "I've missed you." You don't need to repeat it back, kissing him as a way to say it. Smiling, he kisses you back, but it ends earlier, pulling a slight whine of protest out of you.
"I'm driving for Sauber next year." The words have your brain stutter to a stop. Sauber? As in the Formula 1 Sauber team? "What?" He chuckles, putting you down, and looking at you, his smile drops. "Oh my god, Charles. That's….I'm so proud of you." The two of you mold into each other as Charles tells you everything.
You laugh, seeing him so happy, something he's needed for a long time. Finally able to uphold his promise to his father so long ago. A light in a window flicks on, having you two freeze. "Fuck, that's my parent's room. Go!" You whisper yell. Charles scales the garden wall, stopping as he leans, kissing you. "See you on the track." Dropping down the wall, lips tingling.
But you have to forget that, rushing back into the house quick and quiet steps and into your room. Placing yourself back at your desk, studying. A knock has you jumping, your father's head poking in. "I heard something? Are you okay?" Faking concern, you knew he was suspicious from how his eyebrows knitted together, and eyes were drawn.
"Yep, all good." Trying to hide your hard breathing, he looks over you before disappearing and clicking your door closed.
2019 Ages 21 & 20
"I knew it! I fucking knew it!" Something slams on the table, flinching. You try hard not to look up. You'll only be met with articles and newspapers of you and Charles kissing. Your father's furious face, your mother's worried one. That's all you'll see if you look up.
"Christian, you need to calm down. She's an adult." Your mother tries to reason, but he refuses to see reason. "I told you AND him to stay away from each other. And did you LISTEN? NO!" He roars. Tears slip down your face, and hurried hands wipe them away. "I love him." A confession you haven't even said to him.
"Love him? You love him? He's the enemy, Y/n. How could you betray me? This family? The team?" Each word is a stab to your heart, just wanting to run away into Charles's arms. "I'm sorry, Daddy. But I do. I love him!" Head whipping up, you meet your father's eyes. Yours blurry from the tears running down. He just shakes his head.
"If you ever see him again. I'm shipping you back to London, where you'll never see him again. Understand?" Voice steady, he was past angry. Now in the stage of silent fury. "Answer your father, Y/n." Gasping on a sob, you nod, stumbling out of the chair and rushing upstairs.
You knew time had passed when your Mama knocked on the door, the sun dipping into the sea. "Y/n?" A sniffle is the only reply you can give her. Throat and eyes are raw from all the crying you've done.
"Sweetie, he's here to see you." Sitting up, you are shocked and scared by those words. "Your father isn't here. Had business to attend to." She leaves your door cracked. All you can see is her red hair bouncing down the stairs.
Checking the mirror, you know it's pointless trying to fix yourself as you head downstairs. His back is to you, staring out the door that gives you a look at the Monaco docks filled with fancy boats.
"Charles?" Voice cracks, and he turns, wearing sunglasses. He doesn't even remove them to look at you. "I was told by everyone that we need to call this off." White noise fills buzzes in your ears, tears all gone, you just slip down the steps sitting on them.
"Don't, not you too. Please, don't." Charles flinches, unable to read him properly, his sunglasses blocking all his emotions. "Y/n," His own voice breaks. He has to clear his throat, keeping a reasonable distance. Charles knew if he stepped forward, he'd gather you up and never let go. "Please don't go. Charles, you can't. I'll leave. I'll go with you. We can…we can run away and never look back. Let's just run. I can't keep being told how I'm supposed to feel." Eyes burn, and tears drip down your cheeks.
"I love you. I love you, Charles Leclerc." Sunglasses taken off, he pinches his eyes, trying to keep his tears at bay. "We can't. I'm sorry, Y/n." The front door opens and closes. "Oh, oh god." You sob, holding your chest. "Y/n? Oh, my baby." You bury your head in your knees, not wanting to hear your mother's voice.
Current, Ages 26 & 25
"Are you okay?" If you could groan out loud right now, you would. It was thoughtful the first couple of times your mother asked, but now it was annoying you. "Mama, for the last time. I'm fine; my faith in us ever getting back together is long gone." You hiss, watching Charles with fans from the Red Bull hospitality.
"I was sure you two would get back together. Neither of you have dated since that day. Also, I think me kicking your father out for that month taught him a lesson." A chuckle passes your lips, painfully pulling your eyes away from Charles. "Yes, I think it did." She smiles, sipping on her tea.
A small wave to someone, you're too busy to look up, worried Charles would see you staring. "Who are you waving at now?" Your Mama is a social butterfly, always chatting and waving at someone. "Charles." She replies.
Eyes bludging, you whip around, seeing Charles still in the same spot. Eyes locking, the two of you look away at the same time. "Pity, you should go talk to him. You're clearly still in love with him."
"MAMA!" You gasp. She shrugs her shoulder, lifting her teacup to her lips and sipping. "Don't deny it. I know you cheered for him like crazy last year." Cheeks red, you grumble how you were just glad he was doing well.
"Okay, but he's staring at you. Again." You knew he was. Whenever his eyes are on you, your body heats up. Basically glows under his watch, cursing that you still loved him so much. "Oh, he's gone. Guess you can leave now." With a silent thanks, you leave the safety of the hospitality, walking back to your apartment.
The walk is longer than expected. Streets shut down in Monte Carlo due to the race. You can't help but shake the feeling someone is following you. With a slight turn, you notice many people behind you, all wearing regular clothes to Formula 1 gear. "Going crazy." You turn and pop out using a shortcut, slamming into a body.
"Ow, watch where you're going." Snapping, you lock eyes with the person, and blood runs cold. The last time you saw his eyes this close was years ago. You even forgot the exact color of his eyes. Honey green.
"Y/n." He breathes. That stupid heart-stopping smile is still the same, at least. "Excuse me, I have to go." He body blocks you, making sure you don't leave. "Don't go." Hearing those two words, you're pulled back to the memory of when you said that same exact thing to him.
"I'm sorry, I can't." Throwing his own words in his face. This time no sunglasses to hide the sorrow in his eyes. "I love you, I still love you." He confesses. "I had to walk away. I just joined Ferrari. Your father was making my life hell on and off the track. He said if I didn't stop seeing you, he'd make sure I'd lose the seat. Fuck, it was so stupid to pick a fucking seat over you. But all I could think about was my father, Jules, and you. I thought you'd be better without me. God, was I wrong." A sharp turn on your heel, you stare at him.
"Do you have any idea how lonely I've been? That I lost my best friend and the love of my life in one go? I shipped myself back to London to finish school cause everywhere I looked, you were there. Yet, with new faces, places, and everything else, I still looked and craved for you. My dumbass even thought you'd come running after me? But that was all in my head." Charles shakes his head no.
"I did come after you, but your fucking father found me and the ring and told me you hated me. Never wanted to see me again, so I flew back. I didn't learn how you still felt until 2 months ago. Gerri is a talker when drunk." You try to follow his words, but the word ring is all you can stay on. "And she was drunk, spilled everything to me. How you fell apart, kicking your father out for a month. All of it. Grew some balls and went to your father, talked to him, and told him I would marry you with or without his permission." Taking deep breaths, he calms down, leaving you two in silence.
"You have a ring?" He nods, pulling out a little black box. "I carry it with me everywhere." Neither of you says anything as you just stare at the box. "Ask me."
"What?" Eyes wide as you smile, eyes watery. "Ask me to marry you. Please?" He laughs, dropping his head. He gets down to one knee on the empty Monte Carlo street. "Y/n Horner, will you marry me?"
Laughing, you nod. They're happy tears as he slips the ring on your finger this time. "Yes, my balcony boy." His own laughter filled the quiet street.
2024 Ages 27 & 26
"Y/n? Come on, don't be late for our wedding rehearsal!" You smile, blinking out of the memories as you stare at that ugly dress you wore the first time you met Charles.
"Coming!" You stare at your rehearsal dress. A white dress hanging off the door. One dress you wore when you met the love of your life, the other you'd be wearing to promise yourself to him forever.
This was a love story that survived.
Turning, he stops fidgeting with his watch, mouth open. "Is that? Woah." He gasps, seeing you wearing the same dress he first meet you in.
"Yep, had it altered like crazy, but bringing back memories?" Charles can only nod as he moves to your side, kissing you.
"We were both so young when I first saw you." He whispers, kissing you again. "And I'm going to ensure we're never apart again." Placing a kiss on your ring.
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zapreportsblog · 8 months
Text
Baby Come Back
➥ summary: miles misses his girl even though he won’t admit to to himself or anyone else, but when he sees her starting to move on without him, naw that settles it. It’s time to win his baby girl back
➥ a/n: this was inspired by @laaailuh fic “I Miss You”
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The tension in the air was palpable as Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, and his girlfriend (y/n) stood face to face in his small apartment. Their voices were raised, and emotions ran high, as they found themselves entangled in a heated argument.
"I can't do this anymore, Miles!" (y/n) exclaimed, her eyes filled with frustration and hurt. "You've been distant, shutting me out, and taking your anger out on me. It's not fair!"
Miles clenched his fists, trying to find the right words to express the turmoil inside him. "I know I've been a mess since my dad died," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But I'm trying to deal with it in my own way."
(y/n) took a step back, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. "I understand that you're going through a lot, but you can't just push me away and expect me to stick around," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I need to be with someone who can share their pain with me, not shut me out."
Miles felt a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he had been unfair to (y/n). He loved her deeply, but the darkness of his grief had consumed him, making it difficult for him to see beyond his own pain.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I need you, (y/n). Please, don't leave."
(y/n)'s eyes welled up with tears, torn between her love for Miles and the toll his emotional distance was taking on her. "I love you too, Miles, but I can't keep being hurt like this," she said, her voice choked with sadness. "You need to confront your grief and find a way to heal, for both of us."
As the words hung in the air, the weight of their unresolved issues seemed to crush them both. (y/n) turned away, unable to bear the pain in Miles' eyes, while he struggled to find the strength to let her go.
In the following days, the silence between them grew heavy and suffocating. They tried to carry on with their lives separately, but their hearts longed for the comfort and love they once shared.
One evening, as the sun set over the city, (y/n) made her decision. She couldn't keep waiting for Miles to heal on his own. She knew that it was time to face the truth and let go, even if it broke her heart.
She went to Miles' apartment, her footsteps echoing with each heavy step. The door opened, and Miles stood before her, his eyes red and swollen, a reflection of the pain he carried.
"I can't keep pretending that everything is okay," (y/n) said softly, her voice wavering. "I need to put myself first, and that means letting go."
Tears streamed down Miles' cheeks as he nodded, his heart aching with the weight of their decision. "I don't want to lose you, but I know I've been pushing you away," he said, his voice choked with regret. "I'm so sorry for hurting you."
They stood there, facing each other, knowing that their love wasn't enough to mend the broken pieces of their hearts. Their bond had been strong, but the weight of grief had shattered it.
With one last embrace, (y/n) turned away, her heart breaking as she walked away from the man she loved. The tears flowed freely as she left behind the life they once shared, but she knew that it was the right decision for both of them.
In the days that followed, the void left by their breakup was a constant reminder of the love they had lost. Miles faced his grief head-on, seeking counseling and support from friends and family, determined to find a way to heal.
And though they had parted ways, the memories of their love lingered in the corners of their hearts. The road ahead was uncertain, but they both knew that their journey towards healing had only just begun.
•••
In the days that followed the breakup, Miles Morales, also known as the Prowler, became even more withdrawn and closed off. The pain of losing (y/n) weighed heavily on his heart, and he found solace in isolating himself from his friends and emotions. He had always been good at hiding his feelings behind the mask of the prowler, but now it seemed like he was hiding from himself too.
At school, Miles tried to maintain a façade of indifference, a mask that he wore to shield himself from the questions and concerns of his friends. As he walked through the halls, he could feel the worried glances of his classmates, but he pretended not to notice.
During lunchtime, others approached him cautiously, their concern evident in their expressions. "Hey, Miles, are you doing okay?" Stu asked, his voice soft and caring.
He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to deflect their worries. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied with a forced smile. "It just didn't work out with (y/n), you know? It's whatever."
Stu exchanged a concerned glance with Anthony, realizing that Miles was trying to hide his pain. "You sure, man? We're here for you if you need to talk," he said gently.
Miles nodded, but he couldn't bring himself to share the turmoil inside him. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine," he insisted, avoiding eye contact with his friends. "I've got other stuff to focus on."
Just then the bell rang signaling that it was time for class.
As Miles sat in his classroom, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions, he couldn't help but notice that (y/n) was just a few seats ahead of him. His heart clenched as he saw someone pass her a note discreetly.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the exchange. He could feel a pang of jealousy stirring within him, a reminder of the connection they once shared.
Trying to focus on the lesson, he fought the urge to look again. But as the minutes ticked by, his mind kept wandering back to the note. He couldn't shake the feeling of being left out, of no longer being a part of her life.
When the class finally ended, Miles gathered his belongings, but his feet felt heavy as he made his way towards the exit. He knew he should be moving on, but seeing (y/n) with someone else reminded him of what he had lost.
As he walked past her, he couldn't help but glance in her direction. Their eyes met briefly, and a mix of emotions washed over him. He wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but his pride held him back.
In the bustling school hallway, Miles mustered the courage to call out to (y/n) as she was making her way to her next class. "Hey, (y/n)!" he said, his voice a mix of nervousness and hope.
She turned around, surprised to see him, but she managed a polite smile. "Hey, Miles. What's up?" she asked, her guard up, unsure of what he wanted to talk about.
"I was wondering if we could meet up after school," he said, his eyes earnest. "There's something I really need to talk to you about."
(y/n) hesitated, her heart still guarded, but she knew that avoiding the conversation wouldn't resolve anything. "Miles, I don't think there's a need for us to talk," she replied, her voice measured. "It's all been said, hasn't it?"
Miles took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words he wanted to say. "Please, cariño" he implored, "I just need a chance to explain and apologize. There's so much I want to say, and I can't keep pretending like everything's okay."
Her resolve softened as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. With a small sigh, she relented. "Okay, fine," she said, "but just this once, and only because I think we both deserve some closure."
•••
After school, they met at a nearby park, finding a quiet bench to sit on. The air between them was tense, but there was an unspoken understanding that they needed to have this conversation.
Miles began, his words slow and heartfelt. "I'm sorry,cariño, for shutting you out and being distant," he said, his voice tinged with remorse. "I've been dealing with so much since my dad's passing, and I didn't know how to handle it. But that's not an excuse for treating you the way I did."
She listened attentively, the wall around her heart slowly starting to crumble. "I know it was hard for you," she said softly, "but it was hard for me too. I felt like you pushed me away, and it hurt."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Miles replied, his gaze downcast. "I never meant to hurt you, (y/n). I just... I didn't know how to handle my emotions, and I thought if I pushed you away, it would protect you from my pain."
Her heart softened as she saw the vulnerability in his eyes. "You don't have to protect me, Miles," she said gently. "I wanted to be there for you, to help you through your grief."
He reached out and took her hand, his grip gentle yet pleading. "I wish I had let you in," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I had talked to you about everything, instead of shutting you out."
Silence settled between them, the weight of their emotions palpable. (y/n) finally spoke, her voice tinged with sadness. "I miss you too, mi amor," she admitted, her eyes welling up with tears. "I miss us, but I don't know if we can go back to how things were."
Miles nodded, understanding the complexity of their situation. "I don't expect things to go back to normal right away," he said. "I just hope that we can find a way to move forward, even if it's not together."
Her heart ached, torn between the love she still felt for him and the uncertainty of their future. "I need time to heal too," she said softly. "But I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."
And so, beneath the setting sun, they started to open up to each other, their words filled with both pain and hope. As they talked, they realized that they needed to be honest about their feelings, even if it meant facing the difficult truths they had been avoiding.
Their conversation was raw and emotional, but it was a start. A start towards healing, towards understanding, and towards finding closure. Whether their paths would converge again or lead in different directions, they both knew that they had grown from their experiences and that they would always cherish the love they once shared.
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gremlingottoosilly · 2 months
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Hi! I've been reading you for a while now and I really like your work. I have an idea about the Monster!141. What if they encounter a wild hybrid such as an ermine? Like she pounces on them, defending the territory or sees them as a threat,but she is literally smaller than them.🦦🦦🦦
Awwww! She is still a predator, of course, but the only ones who are weaker than her are some tiny prey hybrids like mice and bunnies. She is still a force to be reckoned with...if you're afraid of this tiny thing getting her claws on your hand or something. She is so firm and weird, she is scratching at Gaz whenever he left. her up, and the only way for him to make her shut up is to lift her high in the air, flying with her in his hands. She is adorable like this, using every limb of her body to cling to him and then squeak in his ear to put her down. Just look at this fluffy thing, she even remembered what normal words sound like...the problem with monster uprising is that a lot of monsters became...wild like this. They would scratch and yell and forget normal speech sometimes, but, luckily, Gaz is patient enough to remind her again. Oh, but Price is having NONE of it. He takes pride in his pack not acting like wild animals even though they are mostly animal monster hybrids, but if you want to yell and scratch and bite, you'd have to learn your manners. Our Captain is usually against any clothes at all because he wants to have access to your body, but he would force you into the most uncomfortably covering clothes just so he could make you learn how to wear them. You are tagging on these fancy collars and tight corsets, but no one ever would help you get out of it. Price might like it when you're scratching at his back during sex, but if you're using your claws anywhere else, he would force you to wear a muzzle for your mouth and mittens for your cute clawed hands...you hate it so much!! But he won't listen, oh no( he will just let you across his lap to spank your pathetic wiggling butt. Soap is the nicest to you in this case...he is the wildest out of the pack, with the least self-control - he understands how hard it could be to behave properly for someone like you, and so he really wants you to be free with him. He would let you "escape" just so you could play a small game freely, and then you two would play hide, seek, and fuck! You always hated the last part because Soap is cheating and using his superior nose to track you while you're just trying to get on top of the trees(he loves to force you into a corner just so he could slowly approach you and finally get his fill...you're always ending up on your back with your legs spread when you're hunting with him, but at least he'd lick your bit marks later and let you bask in the fresh air for a bit. Ghost is...difficult. He likes discipline, like Price, but his punishments are even less conventional. If you're trying to fight him, he'd let you - would legit ask you out on a ring, just so he could force his full body weight on top of you and watch you trying to get free. You're so dumb and adorable, it's insane - you're still acting wild, acting like you're a predator just like them, but in reality, you're just a weak thing that needs to be disciplined as harshly as possible. He might feel a bit sorry for you...but he loves to fight - and fighting you is the most precious experience for him. He loves having the opportunity to just force you on the ground and get what he wants, maybe even finally getting a few of his shadowy tendrils up your wiggling butt since you've been so ungrateful lately...
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azullumi · 2 months
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What would be the relationship with the children of Genshin men? (*´ω`*)
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“the steambird’s latest: how to be a good father” ; genshin men
summary — fatherhood on him.
includes — alhaitham, ayato, baizhu, diluc, kaeya, kaveh, neuvillette, tartaglia, wriothesley, and zhongli
tags — fluff, domestic, diluc girl dad propaganda, not proofread, 1.9k ; headcanons
note — i seriously hope this is what you asked nonnieee, sorry if it’s wrong TT
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WRIOTHESLEY, is a pillar of stability and calm in the turmoils and chaos of life—not just to his spouse but to his children also. Despite his duty often calling him to the deep and lonely sea and being (in some manner) bound to it, he always made a concerted effort to be present in the important moments of their lives. His work, much being tremendous, had taught him to be patient and understanding at all times—children can be quite a lot to deal with, despite how adorable they can be. Even though the concept of punishment whenever a wrongdoing has been done is there embedded in his mind, he never applies it to his own kids, opting to guide and teach them instead on what they shouldn’t and should do and why.
Wriothesley navigates the rough and intricate currents of fatherhood with precision and dedication, only wishing to be one that he wanted to have. It’s safe to say that despite his strictness from time to time (done only for their safety), he will be loved a lot by his own children.
ALHAITHAM, a stalwart, leading light. He would share his love of reading for them, most often in the form of reading bedtime stories in which he sometimes discovers that he had fallen asleep shortly after his kid(s) did when he wakes up in the morning by their side. He is not particularly strict nor is he lenient towards them, he’s a perfect balance of the two. He’s not the type to preach what is right and wrong but he will become their pillar for guidance on what they should and shouldn’t do. There was never an occasion wherein he had to scold or reprimand them even if they had done something small but would still make an average person angry. In lieu, he would ask them the reason behind their actions, never forcing the answer out of them, tell them a few words to show his understanding, and ask them to never do it again.
Alhaitham likes the mundane and peaceful life that he has, despite the chaos here and there brought by his children, but he likes it, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
KAMISATO AYATO, while being duty bound as the head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner, he never ceases to be there for his family, especially his children. Whenever he’s off the burden of his responsibilities and has some time, he spends it on his family, doting on both of his spouse and children and making up for the lost moments. He cares for his children, tends to them, and looks after them at all times—whether it be him himself doing so or others, particularly in the shadows. If he cannot be there (in a literal way), then someone has to be, that’s just one way to ensure their safety and to prevent something happening to them (knowing the dangers around them). He has quite a lot of enemies, after all, who wouldn’t say that one wouldn’t target his own flesh and blood?
Due to that, the Yashiro Commissioner would come off as a worrywart towards his children, becoming protective and everything; Ayato only wants the best for them and the best is for them to be able to live their life freely and safely.
NEUVILLETTE, the Iudex of Fontaine is not one to be bad with children, in fact, he’s quite great with them. Perhaps it is because of his experience with the Melusines that he is able to have a good and understanding relationship with his children. He’s gentle towards them, patient, protective, and supportive in every way. He is a father that is devoted towards his children, a guiding presence and someone that they can depend on always. And although he is not particularly expressive, he’s not emotionless either. He is able to express his affection and care towards them without problems, whether it be through words or actions, buying them gifts and items that he thinks they will love and offering words of encouragement and support are just a few of the many ways.
Neuvillette often finds himself, while watching them, wishing that they would stay that way forever, as a child with no burdens of the world on their shoulders, and when he realizes that they are growing up (as anyone is bound to be), the rain will suddenly come and fall in Fontaine, lasting for hours.
ZHONGLI, is someone that his children would look up to and admire; there was once an occasion wherein his child tried to act like him, copying his words and dressing up similar to his style, which he found adorable that he entertains the idea of a mini-clone of him. He's wise and knowledgeable, always having something to say in terms of bedtime stories or simply just in conversations; his children become excited a lot when he sits on the side of their bed and begins to tell them stories of his own. He takes them out occasionally, even if it is just a walk around the harbor to look at shops or past time—oftentimes ending the day with watching the sunset before they go home. In addition, on festivals, he’s there participating in the event with his children and never taking his eyes off them.
In line with all that is said, Zhongli is the type to treat a pinky promise as some sort of unbreakable contract (the moment his child would hook their finger on his while saying the promise, it’s become a commitment for him in which he must accomplish).
TARTAGLIA, having been taking care of his siblings and looking after them, it’s evident that he won’t have a hard time dealing with children, especially when it’s one of his own. he just knows what to do in every moment with them—when they’re misbehaving, running around, crying, and everything. He’s very much loving towards his family, shown in the way that he always try to stay in touch with them by sending them letters whenever he’s away (sometimes with a gift) and occasionally surprising them. Tartaglia is very protective over his own children. I mean, no parent would want to see their own child being put in harm’s way or in dangerous situations so he does everything that he can to keep them safe, even if it means lying to them constantly—like how he avoids answering whenever he is asked about his work or make something up—and having the danger be put on his way instead.
Afraid that his obligations as a harbinger and loyal follower of the Tsaritsa would hinder his responsibilities as a father, Tartaglia tries to balance his time and doesn’t prioritize one over another.
KAVEH, quite a doting father, one could say that he’s overprotective towards his children with the fact that he’s all so vigilant and a little bit strict. Albeit he nags them often, but not in a harsh, shouting, throwing glasses and plates, violently screaming way of scolding or nagging but in a crouching on the floor so that they’re on the same level and speaking softly and slowly, never saying anything mean type (it’s not in his note to be rough and cruel towards anyone, especially to his own children). When they begin to cry, however, he would panic—and not just panic but panic panic. Suddenly, he’s blabbering apologies, wiping their tears, hugging them, and assuring them that everything’s okay and he’s not mad at them.
Kaveh provides them with everything that they want and need, would be supportive towards their dreams, does what he can to always be present in their life, everything. And all be it, as long as they come home, he’s perfectly content. He’s quite a selfless person and loving father, only wishing for his children to grow up in a warm home.
DILUC RAGNVINDR, (he has very girl dad energy; he would love it when he has a daughter) he’s the definition of a gentle father, the very embodiment of that word. He never fails to deal with the predicament that he’s having which involves his kids. He’s the type to play house with them, accepting his role as a bodyguard or sometimes, taking on the part as the pet; the type to sit on the floor and play tea party with them, drinking from a plastic cup that has nothing, and say that the tea tastes delicious. He would rather be the one to play such things with them than have others or no one do so even if it will make him look foolish. He spoils them a lot and I mean by a lot. He buys them a lot of things, mainly things that they show interest in or mentioned once that they would like to have—he’s the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt, money was never a problem for him. Albeit, the gifts were never enough to express his love for them and it never will be.
Diluc, the man that he is, would give them so much more even if it's himself that they must take.
KAEYA ALBERICH, isn’t exactly too strict towards his children. He lets them do what they want but in a way that they don’t feel like they’re being neglected or he doesn’t care about them. It’s just that he doesn’t wish for them to grow up on regrets and looking back on the memories that they could have had or done. If it makes them happy, then so be it (as long as it’s nothing dangerous or harmful). He occasionally takes his family out whenever he’s not being held by the throat by his responsibilities, taking them to many places away from the city—it could just be for a picnic, for stargazing, for anything just so that he can spend his time with his loved ones.
Kaeya would teach them a lot of things, ranging from small and sometimes foolish things such as how to beatbox to teaching them how to wield a sword if ever they show interest towards it, which would end up with him being seen as a mentor and teacher towards them. Leave it to him to teach them how to cartwheel, however, and he will have them learn and perfected it.
BAIZHU, is an extremely patient and caring father towards his children. Despite often being busy treating patients and having consultations, as well as his research, he still manages to find time to spend with them and finds ways to involve them in his day-to-day activities or tasks in the pharmacy. He brings them along with him to the pharmacy whenever he works but he doesn’t ask them to do anything. His child (or children) could just sit there as they watch him, play around, and take a nap—whenever this happens, however, he brings them to the back room where the bed is and lets them peacefully sleep there.
On one of those days wherein Baizhu could only do nothing but stay in and rest, his children are there to accompany him. Despite how much he insists that they can leave him on his own and they can play outside instead, they wouldn’t listen, preferring to help the herbalist and Qiqi bring him hot water and fruits to aid his recovery. And with them by his side, serene dreams come to his sleep and he feels a little bit better about everything.
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